Sadness, My Part

My eyes were blinded, but other senses were kept alert. Some whispers heard, some smiles felt, plenty of tears cried. A scented candle was lit. Thick smoke around me, suffocating pores. I could taste it in my blood.

No words could express how much I felt for her. While struggling to embrace a her spirit, energy was lost in the attempt to subdue the violent beating of my heart. The unknown was about to strike, set to inevitable. Still, I was far from imagining what was yet to come.

A long-lasting battle had taken place before we were finally forced to face the brutal reality that it had came back to claim her once and for all. In those darkest hours, into her ear I whispered softly a sweet summary of sincere gratitute, mercy and love.

I held her hand for the longest time as she slipped away, gently passing into the darkness. In tears and silence, I was deafen by my heart's wailing. My thoughts discontinued.

The death of my mother defined the end to my teen years. Having fallen into a deep depression not long afterwards due to this life-course-changing event, which has altered my perspective on life all together, I now look back and see that my young adulthood life wasn't as perfect as one would hope for it to be. And, although my road to self-discovery so far was not without brain-washing detours, I'd like to think that as long as I continue to preserve myself and put it to good use, walking the line wouldn't feel like such a drag. It enables the story to continue.